Lore of the Fae-Touched

Home of Facts, Adventures, and Goings on of Sabiene Aetherstorm

[sabieneaetherstorm]

Sabiene Aetherstorm

A place for me to put down all the lore, factoids, and adventures of one Sabiene Aetherstorm. It will be mostly scattered thoughts and ideas, but let's see where the Cup takes us, hm?

[sabieneaetherstorm]

As the cold indifference and harsh piety of Winter fade, Spring returns. Illuine (and therefore Sabine's aether) is flooded once more with nourishment, vibrance, and fertility. Blooms rise, the young grow, and all things find their needs met once more.

The Spring Maiden rises to the throne, and all of the Courts find themselves in a period of temporary comraderie. Differences are set aside and even opposed Courts find themselves fraternizing freely for a time.

Won't you come taste of Spring's delights?

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Hail to the King!

Lazily did she enter the arena, The Tyrant looming large. We heed the call and rise to the fight!

Eagerly did the crowd chant along with the melody blaring forth.

Arcadion!

Hidden-Aspected did she stand before the Behemoth made Man

Protected by his almighty right!

The Challenger allowed her gaze to roam the spectators lining the stand, each voice raised in support of their Champion. Her connection to the wyyrd-aether tied to her core surges, carrying her low tones to resonate throughout the building. 

“Hail to the King.”

She bows, but from the shoulder. It is greeting only, not reverence.

“We heed the call. We rise to the fight.”

She straightens, staring into the face of another victim of Winter’s bite.

“Arcadion.”

Her hand shoots out, grasping the air above her shoulder and drawing downward. The handle of her scythe slamming a dull ring into the floor.

“Upended by Her unending might.”

The Behemoth made merely Man falls, only to be snatched by the neck and held limp in the air. The cold breath of winter snakes its way from opaline lips to pointed ear. One last barb to strike home ere the King was no more.

“Sate your mind with Dreams of Grandeur, and go back to sleep.”

(There was an attempt to make a short and sweet bit out of The Tyrant's fight. I wanted it to feel like a faerie tale or a half remembered dream, but only time will tell how well I did.)

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Fighting for Fighting's Sake

Sabiene entered into the Arcadion's tournament with a sense of interest and amusement. She battered her way through her fellow contestents, but connected with Dancing Green and Sugar Riot over their arts outside of the ring.

Her enjoyment of the whole affair quickly vanished when the scheming of the President and the Heavyweights started to unravel. Sabiene removed V.F. and the Xtremes from her path mirthlessly, but had a grim sense of anticipation for The Tyrant.

Sabiene entered The Tyrant's arena alone, foregoing the gathered souls of other warriors that had acompanied her thus far, and trusted in the nature of her pact's blessings to see her through.

The President she engaged with grim determination. Too many times had she been subject to manipulation and plot before wresting her freedom from Illuine. Nothing filled her with cold fury as much as to see it happen again, particularly for something so frivoulous as entertainment bouts.

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Honk-shoo

Sabiene only sleeps out of a sense of normalcy. When emergencies happen the infusion of stolen aether, or wyrrd, from her time trapped in Illuine keeps her functional 24/7, barring some other sort of injury.

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Performances of all kinds are routine in Illuine, from music and poetry to mock battles and very lethal duels. Members of Winter are particularly known for their vocal and instrumental stagings. Luckily there is no lack of people in Eorzea that share in the joy of the arts, so Sabiene stays well in practice.

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Land to Hand to Mouth

A young woman doesn't live very long trapped in strange realms without learning to feed and clothe herself on the run. Over the years Sabiene learned well how to harvest, process, and assemble all kinds of gear, clothing, and portable foods. Finally getting back to Eorzea only allowed her to refine these skills in less life-or-death circumstances, until she eventually opened up her own little restaraunt that she operates when she isn't busy on her latest batch of heroics.

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The ocean remain a comfort to Sabiene. The open seas and the deep woods of the Shroud are her earliest memories, but the sharp danger of the woods of Illuine have robbed the latter of their warmth.

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Fashionable Non-Choices

Her years trapped away from the Source have left profound changes to Sabiene's aether and more. Her body has gained a level a mutability that is both within and outside of her control. Her hair changes on it's own through each of the four Aspects. If that weren't odd enough, so do any clothes or armor she wears. If worn for long enough the color change is permanent, so she will never wear a borrowed item for more than an hour or so.

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Home Sweet Home

Sabiene grew up in the Shroud near Quarrymill, the adopted by a Roegadyn former pirate who retired from Limsa to raise her. The two of them lived with little enough until Sabiene vanished into the woods one day, lost for years, and only to be thrown futher into the future upon her return.

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Being in the grip of the Staff can be the most difficult season to bear, particularly when it comes with the loss of self associated with one's countenance being obsucred. But it does add several points to the Brooding™ skill.

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What's in a name?

Sabiene will answer to almost any pronounciation of her name. Suh-Been, Suh-Bee-eney, Sah-bee-en. Doing so helps keep her current moniker from gaining any true bond to her.

Aetherstorm is the only part she keeps tight to her heart, having taken her wife's name when they married.